1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (189 page)

The shoots have been harvested since ancient times in China and Japan, particularly in the bamboo forests of Kyoto. They must be picked as soon as their tips appear above the ground, which occurs almost immediately after the rains in either winter or spring, depending on the variety. Such is their pervasiveness in China, where fresh shoots can be found in grocery stores in large tubs of water, that anything that develops rapidly is likened to “bamboo shoots after the rain.”

Wherever they are found, fresh shoots should be peeled and blanched before being consumed. Most species contain a small amount of the toxin cyanide, but it can be quickly boiled away, a process that also reduces the shoots’ natural bitterness.

Mail order:
Melissa’s Produce, tel 800-588-0151,
melissas.com
; Specialty Produce, tel 619-295-3172,
specialtyproduce.com
.
Further information and recipes:
The Seventh Daughter: My Culinary Journey from Beijing to San Francisco
by Cecilia Chang (2007);
Beyond Bok Choy
by Rosa Lo San Ross (1996);
saveur.com
(search pork hocks with bamboo shoots).
Tip:
To store fresh bamboo shoots, wrap them in paper towels and keep them in the refrigerator for up to two weeks. If you must resort to the canned variety, just before using, rinse them well to remove saltiness and blanch for five minutes to get rid of any tinny taste.

The classic orange beef is a marmalade-free affair.

Hailing from Hunan province, this aromatic, meaty stir-fry is a perennial favorite on Chinese restaurant menus the world over. The dish consists of strips of beef, generally flank steak, quickly cooked with garlic, fresh ginger, chiles, and grated dried orange peel. It’s the fragrant orange peel that accounts for the dish’s name, in both English and Chinese, where
chun pei ngau yuk
literally means old beef—the
old
referring to the desiccated orange peel. Some chefs mistakenly reach for fresh citrus peel, because it has more juice and zing, but the dried version imparts a more sophisticated, subtle polish. Either way, the orange acts as a foil to the rich beef and sauce, supplying hints of sweetness and, crucially, a little bitterness, too. Mostly, though, the rind lends its distinctive perfume, as do the other aromatic ingredients, to a dish whose powerful, mouthwatering fragrance should fill a dining room. Sadly, subpar versions of this simple classic abound,
particularly those in which the beef is heavily breaded and deep-fried, or for which orange marmalade is used in the sauce. But authentic orange beef, properly prepared, is a light, bright, comfort-food classic.

Where:
In New York
, Shun Lee West, tel 212-595-8895,
shunleewest.com
; Shun Lee Palace, tel 212-371-8844;
in Houston
, Café Ginger, tel 713-528-4288,
cafeginger.net
;
in Toronto
, Crown Princess Fine Dining, tel 416-923-8784,
crown-princess.ca
.
Further information and recipes:
Mastering the Art of Chinese Cooking
by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo (2009);
The Shun Lee Cookbook
by Michael Tong (2007);
The Art of Chinese Cooking
by Rebekah Lin Jewell (2009);
cookstr.com
(search orange beef);
foodandwine.com
(search orange beef).

China’s addictively chewy and salty “pancakes.”

Crisp yet moistly tender and redolent of that green-and-white onion, scallion pancakes were traditionally part of a Shanghai dim sum breakfast, but now make regular appearances at lunch and dinner as an appetizer on Chinese restaurant menus. Made from a wheat-based dough rather than a crêpe-or pancakelike batter,
chung yau bang
are basically fried flat-breads—in the same school as fried Indian
parathas
and the Korean
panjeon
, a heartier interpretation that usually includes bits of various shellfish along with minced green onions, a combination also found in the Vietnamese crêpes
banh xeo
and the Japanese
okonomiyaki
pancakes.

For chung yau bang, finely chopped scallions are blended into a near paste with salt, a pinch of sugar, and either some lard or vegetable shortening. Flour and water are the sole ingredients used for the dough; mixed and kneaded to a smooth, pliable state, it is rolled out in circles before being filled with the scallion mixture and rerolled and twisted into tight coils. Fried in a vegetable oil (preferably peanut), the small cakes emerge crunchily brown on raised spots and silky in their crannies—a tantalizing contrast resulting from their coiled,
uneven texture—the scallions’ oniony bite accenting the mild, slightly oily dough. Delectable accompaniments to soup, the pancakes also benefit from a dip in soy sauce.

But a word to the wise: Although scallion pancakes appear on many Chinese restaurant menus, all too often they arrive soggy and greasy. They might be made in advance, then reheated to order, or fried in less-than-pristine cooking oil, short cuts that give the dish a bad name. One solution: Master the art of making them yourself at home. They require no hard-to-find ingredients or equipment—and a freshly fried scallion pancake is something your dinner guests will long remember.

Where:
In New York
, Congee Village, Allen Street location, tel 212-941-1818,
congeevillagerestaurants.com
;
in San Francisco
, Yank Sing at multiple locations,
yanksing.com
;
in Vancouver
, Grand Dynasty Seafood Restaurant, tel 604-432-6002,
granddynasty.ca
.
Further information and recipes:
The Dim Sum Book
by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo (1982);
cookstr.com
(search flaky scallion pancake);
bonappetit.com
(search scallion pancakes);
foodnetwork.com
(search scallion pancakes ginger sauce).

The Chinese believe in hearty, sustaining breakfasts, and congee, a creamy, steamy rice porridge, is the favorite solution, much as oatmeal (see
listing
) is in many Western cultures. Variations on congee (known as
jook
in Korea and some regions of China) can be found throughout Asia—and it’s sold everywhere from street stands to dim sum palaces to airport lounges.

The original began in southern China as both a simple, filling, warming way to start the day and an economical use of last night’s leftover rice. Its preparation is as simple as cooking gets: Short-grain white rice is simmered in well-salted water until it approaches mush, then served with a variety of tasty and nutritious toppings. The toppings depend on where you are: In Beijing, congee is enlivened with spicy pickled vegetables, bits of sausage, dried fish, preserved “thousand-year-old” eggs, and cubes of tofu. In Guangdong province, rice porridge is usually served alongside another dish, such as stir-fried vegetables. Throughout China, congee is often enriched with chicken, snails, frogs, and various seafood (a costly version is topped with abalone), and sometimes long, crisp strips of crullerlike fried dough (
youtiao
) that add a pleasant oily crunch. In its plainer forms, or topped with therapeutic ingredients, it’s considered a healing food for all manner of ailments—most common among them, hangovers.

Where:
In New York
, Congee Village at two locations,
congeevillagerestaurants.com
;
in Washington, DC
, New Big Wong, tel 202-628-0491;
in San Francisco
, Hing Lung, tel 415-398-8838;
in Toronto
, Congee Wong at two locations,
congeewong.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Mastering the Art of Chinese Cooking
by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo (2009);
Beyond the Great Wall
by Naomi Duguid and Jeffrey Alford (2008);
The Thousand Recipe Chinese Cookbook
by Gloria Bley Miller (1984);
epicurious.com
(search chinese chicken rice porridge);
cookstr.com
(search chinese rice soup).
See also:
Biryani
;
Ochazuke
;
Ginger Fried Rice
;
Risotto
.

Given the staggering breadth, depth, and variety of Chinese cuisine and its scope and complexity, it’s a relief for food-minded visitors to Beijing to be able to take an easy shortcut. The Da Shidai Meishi food court, on the lower level of a sparkling modern building just off the city’s main drag, East Chang’an Avenue, offers just that: a home for more than two dozen open-kitchen stands featuring the cuisines of almost all Chinese provinces. Cooks call out, carny style, to attract passersby, and the air vibrates with the sizzling sounds and aromas of frying onions, meats, and starchy-sweet steaming dumplings as hungry workers and tourists stand in line for bites.

With great flair, the vendors dish up specialties such as Shanghai’s fat, juicy soup dumplings, thick noodles, and chewy twists of dried tofu, or the more delicate dim sum of Guangdong. The hotly spiced soups and cold noodle and vegetable dishes of Sichuan and Hunan are here. From Yunnan come satiny, white, rice-flour noodles floating in heady chicken broth adrift with leafy green vegetables, and an amazing quick-fix, a flavored sticky rice wrapped and steamed in a shiny, green lotus leaf packet that, when unwrapped, serves as a bowl.

Other Asian countries are also represented in Da Shidai Meishi: Korea is here with its hot pots, Japan with teppan grills and ramen, and India with thinly crisp and buttery
parathas
enfolding scrambled eggs with minced scallions, among other choices.

For those looking for the full meal experience, there are many desserts on offer, from fresh fruit salads to sticky-sweet confections and pastries, and a variety of beverages, most temptingly, freshly pressed watermelon juice. A moveable feast, Chinese-style.

Where:
In Beijing
, Da Shidai Meishi food court, Lower Level 1, Oriental Plaza (Dong fang Guangchang), Wangfujing Street at East Chang’an Avenue.

A simple treatment befits what might be the most delicate crab on earth.

Easy to identify by the dense patches of scruffy dark hair on its claws, the sweetly moist, meaty Shanghai hairy crab has long legs and a body roughly the size of an adult’s palm—or the size of a rice bowl, as they say in China. Its firm but satiny
flesh (joined in female crabs by an especially delectable bright-orange roe) is so delicate that in China the crab is simply steamed whole, and is never seasoned during the cooking process. Only as it is being eaten is it dipped, bite by bite, into a ginger-scented blend of rice vinegar and soy sauce.